White Out
by Ten-kih Ho-shih
Summary: A depressing little fic about Harry addicted to drugs and commiting suicide after Sirius dies.  Dont mind my dark thoughts and stories, I am officially in mourning for Sirius untill the 6th book comes out.
1. White Out

White Out  
  
Summary: A little depressing one shot about Harry on Drugs after Sirius died.  
  
Disclaimer: All of the characters in this pathetic little story were created by J.K. Rowling, a.k.a. 'God'.  
  
Ten-kih: sigh I'm sorry people, it's been forever since I updated, you probably think I'm dead. My computers have been spastic, but while I couldn't post, a zillion stories have been written. There will be a flood of them once I get my hands on a floppy disc.  
  
Mika: Enjoy the depressing fic, I liked it a lot :D  
  
Harry sighed and looked down at himself. He was lucky he had been skiving off class, he didn't know what a teacher would do if they saw him in this state. Not that it mattered anymore. Harry was asleep long before Ron got to bed, and he knew very well that Hermione was too afraid to talk to him. He didn't blame her.  
  
It was noon, and his head pounded like mad. He wore nothing but a pair of boxers and a grimace, crunched in a fetal position and clutching his forehead. It had been a while since he was in this agony. Not since the first time. He glanced at the bedside table. It was covered with needles, and dark purple veins popped through the bare pale skin on his arm. He was thinner than usual, and hadn't eaten in days. He thought about how he got like this.  
  
It was summer. His first summer A.S. That was how he thought of his life now, B.S. and A.S., before and after Sirius. He paced the block each day trying to be rid of the constant ache in his heart. Even the Dursleys recognized it, and were somewhat kinder, which only made more pronounced the fact that it as different without Sirius.  
  
Then that fateful day, when he saw the needle on the corner. All he wanted was for it to be over, for the pain to stop. And that had been it. Now his desk was littered with needles and empty prescription bottles, but now he didn't even forget any more. Now he just needed the drugs to function, and functioning normally was out of the question.  
  
After lying alone for a while, he drifted into a fitful sleep.  
  
Just like every other dream, these were haunted by Sirius. There was no escaping, awake or dreaming and Harry knew this. There would be nothing but pain from here on out. Waking up, Harry knew what to do.  
  
He grabbed every bottle, and took a few pills from each. He grasped them in his hand for a moment, and then shoved them all in his mouth at once. He barely had time to swallow before he passed out.  
  
He awoke in the hospital Wing. Hermione was standing over him, tears streaming down her face and dampening his sheets. Ron looked away from him, pale, and obviously trying not to break down. His brain was foggy, and his forehead seared. Hermione, seeing he was awake, squeaked and threw herself on him, sobbing. He felt sad, in a way. He was looking forward to it being over. Instead he was here, giving his best friends heart attacks and feeling very guilty. They needint worry, he thought. He wouldn't be a burden much longer. 


	2. Nothingness

White Out, Chapter 2  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, murderess extraordinaire. She's so good, in fact, that I can't hate her. That really makes it hard to find someone to blame. XP  
  
Apology: I'm so sorry my stories are so sickeningly short. Hopefully it will be good, so you don't care, right?  
  
Audience: WRONG!  
  
Ten-kih: ON WITH THE FIC  
  
Ron and Hermione had stayed silent, not bothering to ask him why. He knew they wondered though. Every once in a while they would send a curios glance over at him, and he could tell in their eyes that they hated they he hadn't spoken to them. But Harry ignored it. Madam Pompfrey didn't ask, he was one of many students she was responsible for. And Dumbledore and McGonagall were hardly there any more, they were bust with the order. Most of the schools responsibilities were taken on my tiny professor Flitwick.  
  
They only left the hospital wing at night, and then he was alone. Deep in the darkness, without the drugs to white out his mind, his head ached and every nerve seared without them.  
  
After the fifth night he was released, without a question from Madam Pompfrey. The one word Hermione had said to him was a spell, she learned in Charms while he was gone, to ease pain. It was not entirely effective, for he was still sick to his stomach, and he cringed as he made his way back to Gryffindor Tower, now remembering that it was Christmas Eve. He felt a fresh surge of guilt, ruining his friends Christmas. Mumbled the password to the fat lady, 'fudggadibit', and climbed the staircase in the dark He just had time to register that the bottles and needle were gone from the desk before he fell asleep.  
  
He awoke in the morning to a blaring headache, and Ron sitting on the edge of his bed, near tears. The pile before his bed was unwrapped, and he was wearing an ugly Maroon sweater, obviously the work of his mum. Once Harry had sat up, Ron said "Why?" a single tear floating down his cheek.  
  
"I don't know." Said Harry before he flung himself downstairs, blinking back tears. Ron darted after him, and Hermione, when she saw him running through the common room. He raced through the school, not tiring or ever looking back. Before he knew it, he was the Tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. He stood before the room of requirement.  
  
He heard Ron and Hermione's footsteps as they raced up the stairs; he passed it quickly three times, thinking obsessively in his mind 'I want it to be over.' Suddenly a door had appeared before him. Just as his friends had made it here, he stepped into empty nothingness. 


End file.
